


Shot In The Dark

by addib



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awesome Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Canon-Typical Violence, Clint Barton & Kate Bishop Friendship, Clint Barton Has Issues, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Deaf Clint Barton, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Clint Barton, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, JARVIS is a good bro, Kate Bishop Is a Good Bro, M/M, Nerd Bucky Barnes, Not Beta Read, On Hiatus, Past Abuse, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Summer of Like
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2020-09-24 20:56:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 8,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20364973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addib/pseuds/addib
Summary: Clint wasn't great at being a functioning human. And feelings weren't his friend.Bucky was just trying to figure himself out a bit.





	1. Introductions I guess...?

Clint was overly, inexplicably exhausted. He had been out on a mission for close to two months. Undercover in a mob was never his strongest area of expertise. But seeing as he was one of the extremely lesser known assassins in the Avengers at the moment, the assignment had fallen on his head.

Sure, he was banged up a bit walking into the Tower, but no more than usual when he was on a solo. Clint perfectly understood that he took way to many risks when it was just his life on the line. Team stuff, yeah he was the team sharpshooter and all but understood that his actions affected the whole team. Solo, no one would care if he got hurt.

Limping into the elevator with his bag of gear, he had to look like hell. To be fair he hadn’t looked in a mirror in going on a week now. Great thing Stark added mirrors to the elevators.

Busted nose, 100% expected. He never got out of a mission without one. Shitty stitching going from his left eyebrow into his hairline, not great. He might have to get over his hatred of hospitals to get them to look at that. He had done them in low lighting with a sewing needle in his motel bathroom close to a week ago. His shoulder was sporting some gnarly bruises that continued under his clothes out of sight. But, fuck if he couldn’t feel them trailing down his sides and across his chest.

He needed food, shower, and then sleep. Not a healthy order, but he hadn’t eaten in well over a day. Hadn’t showered in longer. And he knew he could handle exhaustion a little while longer. It had only been three, no. Four! Four days. ‘Cool, can’t even remember the last I slept’.

Clint sloughed himself out of the elevator on the common floor. His fridge would be empty, commons never was.

He dropped his gear somewhere near the closet and proceeded to try and find something that was completely unhealthy to eat. Nat had been on a health kick when he had left, and judging by the fridge that was still happening. Digging to the belly of the beast he found it. The holy grail of shitty food. The best food to eat straight out of a refrigerator. The one thing he had wanted for the past god knows how long. Pizza. 

Moaning in a blatantly sexual way, Clint shoved the remaining slice into his mouth and stood up. To find that the entire Avengers team was sitting at the island staring at him.

“Sup,” Clint nodded as he swallowed the bite of pizza in his mouth and pulled the remaining dangling part away from his face.

Nat stood up and started to move towards him. Which was odd, she was moving her lips, but he couldn’t hear her. ‘My aids are in,’ he thought as he made to take a step forward before he managed to crumple almost completely to the floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bucky was doing his best. Steve was still trying to get him to be like they were back in the 40s, and honestly Bucky didn’t have the heart to tell Stevie that he wasn’t going to be that way anytime soon. If ever.

At the moment Barton entered the common kitchen, Bucky was attempting to remember how to make coffee with the instant thing Stark had put in. It wasn’t going well.

Natalia had offered to help, but Bucky was stubborn and wouldn’t give up figuring out how the hell this thing worked.

And then the elevator dinged open revealing a character that resembled Barton, but was more bruise than man.

All eyes followed the walking wounded as he dropped his tac bag and foraged through the refrigerator. He didn’t emerge until had found the last hidden slice of the secret pizza Stark had ordered two days ago. Barnes assumed that he was fine until Barton started to sway where he stood.

“Clint,” Natalia asked, “how about you sit down.” Bucky noticed that Barton didn’t seem to be understanding. And his knees were starting to give out on him, too. And then he started to drop.  
Bucky surged forward and grabbed the front of Barton’s undershirt, but the fabric tore as he got him to the floor. ‘Hope that wasn’t a favorite’ was his only thought as Steve slid next to him to start checking on the archer.


	2. whoops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Clint's banged up a bit.

The room was way too bright for Clint’s taste, the kind of bright that left you seeing spots if you looked directly into the source. This would usually mean that he was in the med unit, but the sheets under him weren’t scratching him. And it didn’t smell like antiseptic. So this isn’t hell. He tried to sit up, and his entire body seemed to scream at the same time. Not heaven either. The bed dipping was the only warning he got as Nat plopped down in front of him. No, well to be fair, Nat doesn’t plop. She more… gracefully perches, than anything.

  
Her finger pulling his chin up to look her in the eye pulled him away from how she might be closer to a bird than originally though. Clint could see her lips moving. No sound though. No sound - no aids.

  
Clint held up his hands, but Nat still didn’t seem to understand. He grabbed her wrists. “I can’t hear you.”

  
That definitely came out funny. Clint could tell he hadn’t said it right from the moment he opened his mouth. He hated this part. The part of being deaf where it was thrown back into the spotlight. Made him feel useless and impossibly small. But Nat, bless her, closed her mouth and pulled her hands back. She didn’t know very much ASL, but she signed O. K. and looked at him thoughtfully for a minute.

  
Clint nodded before looking around more fully. He recognized the threadbare purple sheets covering his legs. And the lump of a dog sprawled at the end of the bed. Clint drug his eyes up to the concerned faces of the other Avengers. He could feel his cheeks color. Nat had been one of the only people in SHEILD that knew about his hearing. Or the lack thereof really.

  
He reached up and scratched his neck self consciously. Cool cool cool fuck me I guess. Clint was just doing his best to think of a cover story for the hearing thing. The thing is he had completely forgotten the reason he had no recollection of walking to his room.

  
The entire group though turned at something. Nat looked and tapped his leg for him to look up. Bruce! The good doctor was moving his lips, well he was probably talking but Clint couldn’t hear it. And then his aids were dropped into his hands. Clint eagerly slid them back in. And immediately regretted it.  
“What the hell were you thinking?” That would be Nat.

  
“Should have gone to medical,” Bruce sighed.

  
“Irresponsible son of a bitch,” Steve snapped.

  
Clint looked back up at all of them. He could take a lot of shit, really he could, but calling him irresponsible was crossing the line. Clint rose from the bed and limped to Cap. Seeing as America’s golden boy was several inches taller than him, Clint had to resort to glaring up at him.

  
“I finished the mission without being compromised,” he seethed, “no leaks, no news articles. No one got hurt.”

  
Instead of saying anything, Steve grabbed Clint’s upper arm. The really badly bruised one. Clint will deny vehemently that he yelped.

  
“No one got hurt,” Steve quirked an eyebrow. Well shit. Clint didn’t want to do this. He really really really didn’t want to do this right now. Scratch that, Clint didn’t want to do this ever.

  
Nat’s calm face came into view from behind him. Her hand pushed at Steve’s chest to get him to back off. Thank god for Natasha.

  
“Leave it Steve,” she stepped in between the two forcing Steve to let go of Clint.

  
And he did. Completely. As in he left Clint’s apartment. Leaving Nat, Tony, Bruce, and Bucky looking at Clint. Three out of four he understood being concerned. Bucky staying though, that was out of left field. The former assassin had only been with the team for a few weeks when Clint left. He hadn’t had time to really get to know Bucky in that short amount of time because he’d been kind of busy prepping for the mission.

  
“Welp,” Clint clapped his hands together, “thanks for dropping by but y’all can go now.” He was trying. Smiling and everything. Nat only cocked her eyebrow before gesturing for him to sit back down. He did. One does not simply disobey Natasha.

  
Bruce approached gently, almost like Clint was a cornered and abused dog. Clint for his part sat very still as Bruce went through the beginnings of what was quickly turning into a full checkup. Tony took the quiet moment to start the unofficial debriefing.

  
“Wanna explain what happened bird brain?”

  
Clint really didn’t. But today seemed to be full of things Clint didn’t want to do.

  
~~~~~~~

  
Bucky had found a chair in the corner of the room, squished in between Clint’s bureau that was doubling as a TV stand and the wall. Clint looked like shit. But Bucky though, isn’t as concerned now as he was half an hour ago. Catching and carrying Clint like a ragdoll hadn’t exactly been planned. Bruce had navigated Bucky on how to lay Clint down, and then took his shirt off. Well, the shirt wasn’t exactly taken off. More like it was cut off from where some dried blood had acted like glue. Clint wouldn’t have been able to see the awful slash that went across his back to treat it if he had wanted to.

  
He was taken aback though. Steve had been going on and on about how being on the Avengers was a fairly safe job position to be in. And then Clint comes collapsing in looking like he would be in less pain after being thrown into a blender. To be fair, this would still be one of the safer jobs he’s had in several decades.

  
But Clint looked like shit.

  
The fact that he also happened to be deaf was new information. Bucky glanced at his metal arm, and resolved to not ask unless offered.

  
Bruce was going around Clint making sure nothing was broken and muttering things about ‘bruised not broken’, ‘slight concussion’, and oddly enough ‘another busted nose’. That just had Bucky wondering how often Clint got busted noses.

  
When Bruce finally moved to leave, Bucky finally got a true eyeful of Clint. And yeah, he looked like literal shit. Bruised, dried blood, crooked stitches, and exhaustion would do that to a person.

  
Clint glanced at him, and then managed to do a double take of Bucky sitting in his room. Natalia was still talking to Clint, but he didn’t seem to be paying her any attention.

  
“What’s got you still here Barnes,” Clint quirked his head. Bucky blinked at that. Did Clint not want him here? Without even replying, Bucky rose and left the messy apartment for his own rooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love comments and criticism! Have a nice day!


	3. The range is not meant for tired idiots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So the range is a known go to spot for overtired assasins.

Clint had found himself in the range the next morning. Technically the next morning. It was working on 2am when he had given up on going back to bed. Nightmares would do that to a guy. And yes, he fully realized how completley and utterly stupid it was to be working on the range like this when he had managed to collapse from exahustion not seven hours ago. But there was no way in hell he was just going to sit still until he nodded off again or the sun rose.

This is what Clint did. After every single mission he would overthink. Overthinking was a trait that no-one associated with him, but he did. Clint would think about every single action and reaction that he had had while on a mission. Risk assessment if he did it before he went on a mission, cause for a lack of sleep when he did it after.

Clint had worked himself through two quivers of arrows methodically, relying on pure muscle memory to shoot. While doing this his mind had managed to wander. And not wander to a good place, like when the next marathon of Dog Cops was gonna happen. Which he needed to look into in the near future. But more into the ‘you’re a worthless piece of dumpster fire’ place. Clint hated that place, but he always managed to get there within ten hours of getting back from a call.

_Thwack_ was the very satisfying sound that the last arrow in Clint’s third quiver made. He didn’t have anymore basic arrows down here to work with, unless he wanted to use some trick arrows. But considering that Kate had messed up his labeling system forever ago, he didn’t quite trust himself to not completely destroy the range. Wouldn’t that make Tony happy.

So he made his way down range to retrieve the three dozen or so arrows stuck in a pattern along the target. Clint was working on trying to pull out a particularly stubborn arrow when he heard the door to the range open and close. Not a minute later Bucky Barnes was standing in the empty lane next to Clint’s holding a semi with a self satisfied grin on his face.

“Need some help,” Bucky offered with just a hint of laughter in his voice. Clint groaned internally. And then Bucky started goddamn giggling. So maybe that hadn’t been an internal groan after all.

“Nope,” he huffed, still working on the damn arrow, “Nopity nope noper noperoo. All good. Blue sky clear eyes and all that.” Smooth job, idiot.

~~~~~~~

In Bucky’s defense the scene that he had walked in on had been hilarious and it had taken a test of wills not to burst out laughing as soon as he walked in. Clint had his feet firmly planted on the wall. Hands wrapped around the shaft of an arrow that was halfway lodged into the wooden block Clint had obviously been shooting into. Anyone would have laughed at a grown man, an Avenger no less, wrestling with an inanimate object that was stuck in some wood. Bucky was a goddamn saint for not bursting at the seams on sight.

And then Clint fell. Again. It blows his mind that one man can be so naturally clumsy. And then Bucky heard a very faint “aww arrow, no” before Clint popped back up to standing.  
“Hey…. Bucky. Sergeant Barnes…. Mr. Barnes… Mr. Soldier,” Clint stumbled through his words and all the possible names to give Bucky. “Any of those work for you”

“Just Bucky, thanks,” he said with a nod. He had woken up from a nightmare. Technically another nightmare. Technically speaking his fourth nightmare in three days. And he came down to the range to vehminitally not think. And here was Barton falling down and being awkward as hell. Not exactly part of Bucky’s routine. But not exactly unwelcome.

Clint had managed to wrestle out the last few arrows left in the block as the whole situation played itself out. He was making his way uprange and scratching the back of his neck with one of the arrows in his hand. The common action though had drawn Bucky’s eyes to the white bandages wrapping his left wrist and both biceps. It had also managed to pull Clint’s shirt up a few inches revealing the bruising from earlier, but now Bucky also allowed himself a few seconds to take in Clint’s very noticeable v-line peeking out from the waistband of his pants and boxers. Well damn.

He found himself with a bit of a dry mouth as Clint put away the arrows and an impressive compound bow. And then the archer turned to him, and Bucky realized he might look a little less brooding or something because Clint smiled at him. And goddamn if Clint’s smile didn’t look like a thousand suns. Even with his split lip starting to drip a bit of blood again.

“Come on,” Clint said grabbing his arm. His metal arm. And pulled them into the elevator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a great day y'all! I love to hear y'alls thoughts on things.


	4. coffee with a touch of oversharing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint likes coffee and not being able to shut up. Bucky likes more creamer than coffee in his cup. Oversharing on Clint's part ensues.

Clint was sitting on the bar holding a cup of freshly brewed heaven between his hands as he watched Bucky completely decimate his. He was adding more cream than coffee and Clint was appalled.

“How can you drink that,” as he cradled his now more precious than ever black as night coffee to his chest. Bucky laughed. And Clint swore the angels sang. Shit, that’s new.

“Didn’t have money for this kind of stuff back in the day and they wouldn’t let me have it,” Bucky shrugged as he capped the creamer and put it back in the fridge. Clint though, was internally panicking. Shouldn’t have asked idiot. He’s gonna hate you and your stupid insensitive ass.

He slid down off the bar to join Bucky in the common living room where Stark had left some Americana music playing. Which only meant that he and Steve had had it out again. Tony only saved the Americana for when he was really pissed, otherwise it was just the Star Spangled Banner whenever Cap entered a room.

“So….,” Clint drawled out. He drawled it out due to a lack of his one functioning brain cell being unable to come up with anything to ask the Winter Soldier. Before finally settling on “you like Jazz?” And shit if he didn’t internally and externally smack himself in the face for that.

Bucky’s hand found Clint’s wrist where it was still holding his hand to cover his very stupid face and gently pulled it away. Clint could see that he was trying not to grin at him.

“Don’t do that,” he warned, “Natalia..” He was quickly cut off as Clint sputtered a laugh. “What? Did she say I bruise like a peach? Cause I mean I do, but it’s not really my fault and I’ll probably get a black eye soon enough to cover up any bruise I give myself now.” And he just kept talking as he got up from the couch they had found themselves on to go get more coffee. Clint went on to describe how he had managed to dislocate his shoulder while getting out of the vents, sprained his wrist getting out of bed, and three other random injuries he had caused himself.

“When,” Bucky paused to consider the klutz in the kitchen, “when did all this happen?”

“Oh,” Clint’s face paused with the coffee cup partially raised to his lips and his mouth forming and ‘o’. “If I’m thinking right ... probably in that month that you had just moved in and I was prepping.”

Bucky blanched at the fact that Barton had managed to get so hurt on his own in less than a month. He was a hazard to himself. And then Buck’s eyes lit up. He had found himself a modern version of the old Stevie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Switching things up because I'm bored, stressed, and slowly turning into a walking dumpster fire of a human being.  
Also we're going shorter because I'm using this fic as a two fold. It's a writing warm-up for my creative writing class and it's Clint Barton.  
I welcome and love any kind of comments or support from y'all.  
Have a great day!


	5. Bucky is trying to help he swears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky tries to take care of Clint. It is revealed how much of a walking dumpster fire Clint is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy y'all!  
Got an update from your local dumpster fire.

“Go to bed.” The words spoken with no warning from behind him had Clint jumping and shooting wide. Very wide for him. Instead of filling in the bullseye like he had planned, the arrow was nestled in the outermost ring of the target. 

“Awww arrow no,” Clint whined as he turned to face the intruder. Bucky Barnes was leaning against one of the walls supports near the step entrance. _ Thought I was a good spy. _ Another thought struck Clint much harder though. Bucky looked… soft. He was in joggers and a too big hoodie, his boots weren’t even laced up.

“Thought you were a spy,” Buck peeled himself off the support and went up to Clint. As in he got up in Clint’s face to the point where there was a split second where they were breathing the same air and Clint was wondering if he had brushed his teeth after dinner when he pulled back. He pulled back with Clint’s bow in his hand. Before Clint could even protest Bucky had it mounted on the wall and was pulling Clint toward the elevator.

“Mind telling me what’s got you up,” Clint asked as the doors dinged shut and they began to rise. Bucky hummed in response instead of answering. “It’s late,” was his eventual reply as the pair reached Clint’s floor. Bucky, for his part, had never been to Clint apartment in the tower. And it was chaos. And not an organized chaos. The empty coffee pot had a silly straw stuck in it sitting on the table at the entrance. There were six pizza boxes stacked beside the island. The trashcan didn’t have a lid. And don’t get Bucky started on the actual living room. Everything in him fought the urge to _ clean _. But Clint had moved to the bar and had begun the movements of brewing a fresh pot of coffee. And Bucky wasn’t having that.

Plucking the mug from Clint’s hand, Bucky made the swap with a bottle of water. “I was using that,” Clint indignantly proclaimed. “And I have a working theory you have more caffeine in your blood than water.” Clint pouted at that, and Bucky knew he was right. Clint followed up with turning around flopping onto his very old beaten up couch.

So what if he drank more coffee than anything else? He didn’t care. He was fine. It kept him up and moving. Clint was ready for whenever the team needed him. He didn’t want to think that the team didn’t care. They did. At least Nat did. Maybe…yeah no. The list was very short. But Clint was fine with that. He was fine. Everything was fucking fantastic.

Bucky was doing his best to find something akin to food in the archers kitchen and was coming up startlingly empty handed. The fridge had nothing except for a thing of ranch that had expired almost a week ago. The freezer had a frozen pizza and exactly one thing of frozen cheese sticks. _ This is ridiculous. _ The cabinets were bare. There wasn’t even much of a trace of food having ever been there. 

“You eat any real food Barton?” Bucky got a long suffering sigh for his query. Clint’s head popped up to consider him.

“I eat takeout,” he said propping his chin on the arm of the couch to watch Bucky.

“Not food Barton.”

“Sure it is!” And Clint rolled to a standing position and launched over the back of the couch. His lack of care for furniture brought him to a drawer where he pulled out a truly terrifying amount of takeout menus. Bucky’s eyes widened as Clint began going through them, clearly looking for one in particular. His eyes lit up before grabbing his phone.

“Hey Tam can I… yes this is Clint.” A pause. Clint huffed a laugh. “Yeah getting shot at and taking out the Russian Mafia will have you disappearing for a bit.” Another pause, longer this time. “That’d be great… and you know what,” a glance at Bucky, “mind doubling that for me?”

Clint hung up with a smile to a trademarked what-the-fuck face from Bucky. 

“You just gave up your very confidential mention to a _ takeout place _,” Bucky yelled. That earned him a minute flinch on Clint’s part. “Yeah, no. Tam thinks I’m kidding. I’ve been ordering from his family for years and they’ve never believed me.”

“But your name is on the news! They’d have made a connection by now,” Bucky said as he wondered it he should call Steve to see if damage control could start sooner rather than later.

“No it’s not,” Clint shrugged as he hopped onto the kitchen counter. “The _ Avengers _ are on the news. Not Clint Barton.” He started to idly swing his feet to bounce his heels off of the lower cabinet.

“Your name comes up though,” Bucky was trying to reason with him. He was really trying.

“That would be a big ‘ol nope.”

Bucky didn’t get it. He wasn’t even an official Avenger and his name came up all the time in interviews. Clint was _ in _the interviews, and his name didn’t come up.

“It’s fine Bucky, really.”

It wasn’t though. If Clint wasn’t ever brought up, that brought up who got the recognition of the sharpshooting for the team.

All of sudden there a flick at his forehead, and without thinking Bucky grabbed the wrist that had done that. And there was a soft ‘pop’.

“Well shit Barnes I think you just busted my wrist.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope all of y'all have had a wonderful day.  
I'm an attention whore who is trying to improve her writing.... So comments of any kind are welcomed and cherished.  
Have a wonderful day!


	6. ya girl is bad at titles for chapters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint reveals some bad habits. Bucky gets concerned. All in all it's basically a filler chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo. I hate this. It's trash. It's trash from your local dumpster fire of a writer, but it's a chapter. But I hope you like it!

Bucky was gawking at Clint as he walked over to a kitchen drawer and pulled out an impressively sized first aid kit. The lid was opened with a thud as Clint rummaged around in the contents for a minute. Boxes of bandaids and sucher kits came out before Bucky replaced Clint’s searching hand with his own. He emerged victorious with a roll of bandages in hand.

Clint let out a whoop before grabbing it and started wrapping his wrist. 

“What are you doing,” Bucky asked, grabbing the bandages away from him.

“Wrapping my wrist,” Clint answered after realizing Bucky wasn’t trying to make a joke. Bucky began rewrapping his wrist closer to a boxer wrap than just a haphazard situation that Clint was trying to accomplish.

“This is going to put you out for awhile, isn’t it,” Bucky glanced up through his hair into Clint’s eyes.

“Nah, maybe a few hours but not much longer.”

“I wasn’t aware you had super healing,” Bucky laughed.

“Oh no. No no nonono. I just let it sit for a few hours, go out to the range and work until it stops bothering me,” Clint watched Bucky’s hands deftly tuck the last of the wrapping down. He knew it wasn’t healthy. Clint was lucky if he didn’t get a health spiel from Nat once a month. 

Bucky was not impressed by the fact that Clint wasn’t letting his injuries heal. No scratch that, he was  _ concerned _ . The last time Bucky had been this concerned was whenever Stevie would get into fights to defend the little guy, when he was the little guy. Clint though, Clint wasn’t doing this to protect anyone.

“How often…,” he didn’t want to ask Clint. And he really didn’t want to know the answer. So he left it hanging in the air between them.

“You could try my medical files,” Clint shrugged. “I lost count long ago of how often.” He blanched. Clint had  _ lost count _ . Bullshit. There is no way he lost count of how many times he got hurt. Clint’s huff interrupted the train of thought. “Jarvis has access I think. But to be fair, this’ll give me an excuse to go home.”

“Home?”

“Yeah. I don’t live here full time,” Clint wandered off to the couch to do something. “I’ve got a place out in Brooklyn. Real decent place. Awesome neighbors.” And then his eyes lit up. “You should come by!”

Bucky was shaking his head as soon as the words left Clint’s mouth. He didn’t do that. The whole ‘visiting people’ thing. To be fair no one had asked before. But to be very fair Bucky was the Winter Soldier. Ex-Winter Soldier. Whatever. Not many would be ballsy enough to invite that kind of murdery man into their home. This isn’t even going into the fact Steve would  _ hate  _ it. This would have previously meant that Bucky would have jumped at the idea. But now he trusted Steve with his life.

“I don’t think that’d be that great of an idea. Steve’d,” Bucky tried before Clint interrupted with a very convincing puppy dog look over the back of the couch. The couch was being fisted in Clint’s bum wrist. And that did it. Fuck, he had hurt Clint, the least he could do was go to his probably very nice house and be nice.

“Ok,” he sighed, running his hand through his hair. This caused a bit of a rat’s nest situation though, considering that the metal plates always caught the strands badly.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trash writers still need love. And I am very much a trash writer that needs love. So comments with criticism are very, extremely welcome.


	7. kate's a little shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Bucky meets Kate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Hello. Yes. I am suffering and writing this instead of the three other papers I have due. Please enjoy.

Clint had written down the address for Bucky with the instruction to just drop by whenever. That had been almost a week ago and Clint hadn’t been seen at the tower since. He had been hoping Clint would show him the way or something, kinda like when he’d walk a girl home after dancing. It would be nice. Except for the fact that Clint was nowhere to be found. This information was double checked by Jarvis. Clint was not in the building, and hadn’t been since the night Bucky had gotten his address.

So here Bucky was sandwiched in on the G train headed to Brooklyn. Which was nice in the fact that he hadn’t been to the borough in a while. Not so nice when he had jammed himself into a few to many layers for a subway in early September. At rush hour. So yeah, not Buck’s best decision, he wasn’t too big to admit that. But he was going to go see Clint. In a nice and clean Brooklyn apartment.

When he had brought up Clint’s place with Natalia though. She snickered before full on laughing in his face. 

“What’s so funny about that,” Bucky glared down at the redhead.

Nat wiped her eyes after calming down. “Just the fact that you think it’s nice and clean.”

That had been nagging at him for awhile. And yeah, sure, everybody knew Clint wasn’t exactly organized but it would still be a nice place. Clint was a nice person that needed a nice place. If anyone deserves to live in garbage it would be Bucky. A droning voice cut through his thoughts announcing his stop. Along with everyone else's stop apparently. God, he hated crowds.

No one was giving him directions. No one was even really looking at him. The kids that were too young for school were congregating on front stoops and weren’t paying him any mind. The deli across the street had just rolled the grates up. It was 9 in the morning and no one was really out on the street.

It wasn’t until he cursed in Russian did an old asian grandmother poked him and pointed him where he wanted to go.

“Be nice to the boy. Ivan’s boys too mean,” she sighed and wandered back to her abandoned knitting on the stoop. Bucky started walking.

Upon the realization that he had passed this building three times in his search, he was alarmed. The place looked decent, but not exactly how he was imagining a main part of the original Avengers to be living. It was a squat little building compared to its neighbors. A kid was bouncing a soccer ball of the front off the place. Bucky tried the buzzer.

“Mister. Ay mister, that thing ain’t worked in weeks. Hawkguy ain’t been on his feet long enough to get it fixed,” the kid said pulling on Bucky’s jacket. Hawkguy? But that’s… “If you lookin for him, he’s on the top floor. Apartment H,” and the kid was off around the street corner. Bucky shrugged and started climbing the stairs to ‘Hawkguy’s’ apartment. 

He was swiftly greeted by a nerf bullet to the forehead and a very happy one eyed dog. A girl appeared from behind the couch with a very put-upon expression and pulled the nerf bullet off his forehead.

“You blocked the target,” was her introduction.

“I blocked the what now?”

She shut the door behind him and waved her hand over the very purple, very well loved target. There just so happened to be a half dozen Nerf bullets stuck to its surface, along with one real arrow.

“Kate Bishop,” the girl stuck her hand out to him. He shook it warily and started looking around. Holy shit this place needed some work.

“Where’s…”

“Clint,” Kate supplied. And then laughed. “Are you kidding? Dude doesn’t wake up until he smells coffee.” With that she whirled around and headed to the kitchen and started the process of brewing a pot on an extremely banged up coffee maker. The thing looked like it had been under the Hulk’s fist at some point and lived to tell about it.

_ Thwack. _ An arrow. There was now an arrow sticking out of the cabinet three inches from Kates head. And she hadn’t flinched. A very rumpled Clint emerged from the stairs with bow in hand. Along with a startlingly new amount of bandages and bruises. Kate just turned around with a smile and hopped up onto the counter.

Clint didn’t say anything to Bucky. To be fair, he didn’t say anything to Kate either. He signed.

**Broke in?**  
Kate let out a giggle, **obviously.** Clint rolled his eyes and sat on a barstool. And that is the moment that apparently Clint noticed there was a second member of the break in team. He proceeded to fall backwards off the barstool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I love hearing what y'all think. Or just hearing from y'all in general is good.


	8. Clint's not a morning person. Ever.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate. Coffee. Ears. Lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooo. here I am. this is now a therapy mandated fic. also a good excuse to avoid my actual papers.

Being jumped by a group of Russians in tracksuits had severely diminished Clint’s plans of taking a break from heroing. To be fair, he had managed to keep the building under his protection. Grills had hauled him back into the building but Clint’s the one who patched himself up and knocked himself out for a solid day.

Kate had showed up in the apartment and had been taking care of Lucky. She did not clean. If Clint was thinking right, the one time he asked her to help clean he had ended up pinned with an arrowhead aimed at his face. He hadn’t asked again.

Bucky could tell that no one cleaned in this house. It was similar to Clint’s tower apartment in that it was very… cluttered. Ok so it was a bit rough. Clint’s fall quickly assured that Bucky was going to clean as soon as he was left alone for five minutes, because Clint had found himself in a pile of laundry. No, the place wasn’t dirty. But it wasn’t lived in either. Bucky saw two suitcases half unpacked by the couch, and the laundry pile by the bar were the worst part.

Other than the countless holes in the wall, that Bucky swore came from arrows, and Clint claimed were just from termite damage. But anyway, Clint was to busy trying to haul himself into a sitting position. Bucky, for his part was trying not to be obvious in the fact he had no idea what Kate was signing, but whatever it was it seemed to be annoying Clint. Clint fully understood and was pissed.

**He’s cute you know** , Kate signed with a shit eating grin. Clint huffed.  **I mean the arm isn’t great but your deaf so it cancels each other out. ** He gave her a middle finger salute and made it upright. He hadn’t shut up about the newest Avenger and he was regretting every word every spoken in front of her. But come on, Clint was a sucker for anyone who had a bit of blood on their ledger apparently.

“Hey Clint,” Bucky smiled at him, “you said I could drop by whenever.” Clint waved his hand at Bucky before making a vague gesture to his ears. Again, second meeting and second time with no aids in. Clint was going to have to have a talk with God, she seemed to be enjoying fucking with him. Kate snorted before jutting in.

“He’s deaf oh murdery one. He’s also a disaster so he never put his stupid ears in.” Clint stuck his tongue out at her, considering she had signed the entire time. God bless one Kate Bishop.

Clint went back upstairs as Kate made a cup of coffee each for the two men and promptly left with a waggle of her fingers. Lucky followed her to the door before laying in his doggy bed staring Bucky down.

Clint emerged from the second floor with ears and without a bow. Lucky popped up and started barking and running back and forth. Bucky was a little concerned. No, he wouldn’t go so far as to say he was afraid of dogs. He got a little jumpy when they get to loud, but that was a him thing and not a public thing.

Clint noticed though. He noticed that Bucky tensed up his entire body, he didn’t move away but he looked like he was about one wrong move away from it. Clicking his tongue got Lucky to calm his shit. Kate had already taken him out and fed him given that the food bowl was half full and the leash was actually on the peg for once. God bless Pizza Dog but it seemed as though he was just happy to see Clint up before it was time for his afternoon walk.

He gestured towards the barstool and Bucky slid onto it. Clint made a very good bar slide to get the coffee cup to Bucky. It was kind of impressive given he hasn’t even made it through a cup yet. Bucky didn’t look as though he had calmed down much but given the mug didn’t shatter in his fist Clint’ll take that as a win.

“So, welcome to Bed Stuy,” Clint gestured with his mug around the place. 

“What happened to you,” Bucky asked, not even glancing around the place.

And damn Clint was not up to explaining  _ everything _ that was up with his life. But also it’s Bucky, you can’t lie to Bucky. It’d be like cursing out Captain America or something, you don’t do it.

“Mafia. Russian.” That should be enough, no details, no hospital records. And then Bucky opened his mouth.

“Ivan. Were they involved in that op you just got back from?” Clint blanched. There was no way Bucky knew about Ivan and his tracksuit buddies. Clint didn’t let that shit slip out when he was in the tower. “An old lady down the street told me they were too mean to you.”

Oh. Ms. Foo always tried to make sure he was ok. It helped that she was Tam’s grandmother. 

“Yeah,” Clint huffed and subconsciously started scratching the back of his head. “They try to take the building back every so often. Good news though, they only try to take me out.”

Bucky did not consider this good news.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please tell me if this sucks and what y'all'd would like to see.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky tours the apartment a bit.

Clint worked through his second cup of coffee as he watched Bucky move around his apartment. Avengers wise he was the first other than Nat to even hear about the place, and Natasha had never actually visited. The one time he had mentioned it he had gotten the reply of ‘you belong in the tower with family yastreb, not seperating yourself from us’. But what does a red headed assassin know anyhow, he was fine. He had Kate in the building, and Grils, Simone and her boys, they were all family too. Just not as close. Close in the sense of ‘I’ve saved your ass five times this mission and now you owe me waffles’. 

Bucky was making a clockwise circle around the bottom part of the space, he didn’t know how Clint would react to him in the lofted bedroom. The place was huge compared to the apartment he and Steve had kept in the 40’s. That memory wasn’t an organic one from his own records but more out of Steve’s sketchbook one night when he had felt alright enough to ask questions. The kitchen he had been in at the entrance of the place, but once he moved into the living room he saw a bit more truth to Hawkeye’s way of life.

The couch was faded and worn down from where someone had slept on it far to often to be healthy. There was even a blanket and pillow in a pile at the side. Either Kate had spent the night or Clint had been forcibly moved to his actual bed not long before his arrival.

A list was forming in his head of what he thought wasn’t exactly healthy that he’d ask someone about later. Probably Jarvis, as much as the AI had freaked him out in the beginning he was actually a really helpful bastard. The internet had been hard to figure out until Steve had mentioned that he could just ask Jarvis, which had quickly become his favorite way of figuring out this century. 

The list currently had the fact that Clint never seemed to sleep a healthy amount and counterbalanced it by drinking his weight in coffee everyday. The fact that he seemed to acquire more injuries every time Bucky saw him. Add on the fact that he doesn’t seem to eat that well and overwork himself to boot, Bucky’s shocked that he was still standing half the time.

“What’s your dog's name,” he asked over his shoulder as he picked up a black box looking thing. He’d add it to the list of ‘Things To Ask Jarvis Where No One Can Hear To Laugh’. The title came from the fact that he had asked Jarvis about Steve Irwin in front of Sam who didn’t let him hear the end of it for a week and still brought it up if things in the tower were slow.

“Lucky,” Clint supplied after a minute, bring the dog to trot over to his owner and sit waiting for something or another. What the dog got was a head rub before he went back to nursing his cup of coffee that Bucky considered to be in the same family as motor oil or sludge. 

“How’d you get him?” Bucky joined Clint back at the bar while giving the dog a bit of a bearth.

“I got into a fight with the Russians and they threw him into oncoming traffic. I took him to the vet and they kept saying how he was lucky to be alive. He got the name because of that and that I’m lucky to have him. He also answers to Pizza Dog.” Lucky was starting to whine from where his name was being said so many times. Instead of getting rowdy though, he just trotted over to Bucky and plopped his head on the ex-assassins knee, looking up at him with wide eyes practically begging for scritches.

Clint smiled and nodded consent for Bucky to pet Lucky. The mutt was calm when he felt someone was nervous around him and all he really wanted was head rubs and pizza anyway. Bucky was just scared to hurt him, especially with the fact that he had been hurt so badly before. But Lucky just licked his palm when it strayed too far down and Bucky kept petting him gently. Clint smiled at the scene beside him, feeling his heart swell with something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to yell at me. I know that this took way to long to update and I am incredibly sorry about that. But I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter and had happy holidays.


	10. Jarvis is best bro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jarvis has feelings and you can't prove otherwise.

Jarvis had been of immense help once Bucky found his way back to the tower with Clint in tow. He still hadn’t graduated from ‘Barnes’ but he had his fingers crossed that’d change. All he really wanted to do was wrap up the blonde disaster in bubble wrap when he wasn’t being a hero. Some explanation from the AI came in the form of an email with a dozen linked articles and encrypted documents.

The first thing he opened had only been marked ‘Barton.doc’ but it was the entirety of Clint’s history with SHIELD and the Avengers. His basic list of injuries was tailed with a note to continue onto another document because the limit was two pages. 

The next had a SI watermark but wasn’t addressed from Tony, but it had what looked like a schedule. A rough estimate of a schedule at least, because there were some days where training took place from one in the morning to seven and then active day work started at nine. Then there was dietary estimations and Bucky didn’t even get past the first line before deleting. There were some things that he knew you didn’t look at without permission.

“Jarvis, did you make all this?”

“I did, sir.”

“Can I ask why,” Bucky tired, hoping the system would take mercy on him and not have him spell out exactly what he wanted. That had happened one time when he had gotten curious a few weeks after coming to live in the tower like ‘a civilized assassin’ as Clint had put it. Jarvis had forced out specific answers from him before finally helping him search online with the helpful tip of ‘use incognito mode Sergeant seeing as even Mr. Stark can’t get around that’.

“Agent Barton treats me as much as an equal as Mr. Stark. I have grown concerned at his health numbers over the months since Loki,” Jarvis supplied. “You care for him and want to see him happy, as I do.” Not surprising that Clint Barton had managed to befriend a technically emotionless, sentient building. 

“Thanks Jarvis.”

“My pleasure sir.” Bucky deleted the email from the AI and went in search of Clint.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo. If you can't tell, this fic has no actual planning and forethought behind it. I set a timer for twenty minutes and write a chapter. Will there ever actually be any fonduing? Not explicitly but yes. Will this remain a dumpster fire fic from your local dumpster fire raccoon writer? Yes.
> 
> Also. I am a slut for comments and kudos. Tell me what you like, what you thing is stupid or worthless. Hell, even tell me how your day is going.
> 
> I am also on Tumblr at addileab
> 
> Have a great day (and this end note went way longer than originally planned, sorry about that).


	11. Secretive Nat is Secretive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nat clues Bucky into some research that he might need to do to understand Clint just a bit better.

He found the archer sprawled in the common room’s corner chair, also known as Bucky’s chair for the simple fact that it gets the best natural light to read by. Steve was more interested in catching up on all things modern, but he had honed in on reading and ‘geekery’. That’s what Tony had called it when he had asked where he could get the next book in the Percy Jackson series.

Clint’s snores were echoing around the room. Natalia was seated in the corner of the couch next to Clint, scratching his head lightly as she flipped through a magazine. He really hoped it was the new issue of Knives Monthly because he wanted to borrow it when she was done.

“Don’t wake him up,” she murmured as he had started to reach toward Clint. “He didn’t sleep last night and I just got him down.”

“You make him seem like a kid,” Bucky whispered back, dropping to lean back against the ottoman. He snatched the magazine off her lap and started flipping through it.

“He acts like one sometimes. But I haven’t been able to see him as much since Loki and then you and then his undercover op,” her hand had stilled for a moment leading Clint to let out a quiet whine.

“What did I have to do with you not seeing him?”

“Who do you think dug up every little detail about you from the moment you were born to the second you stepped off the jet with Steve and Sam,” she arched an eyebrow at him. He didn’t like it when she did that, it reminded him of Becca, an actual memory that had come about after seeing a sketch Steve had made of the entire Barnes family from memory. The eyebrow of judgment had always been followed by a huff of laughter that Natalia was missing.

“What’s the deal with the Loki thing? I read surface details in everyone's files but I haven’t dug into the news articles from then,” Bucky noted a knife with a wicked curve that he’d want to order later.

“It’s not my story to tell. Thor and Clint were the most affected by the whole situation,” she glanced down at Clint. “When you do get to reading about it, the public and even SHEILD, weren’t the kindest to all involved.”

“I take it our local archer was a victim of bad press?”

“I’ll take a page out of Clint’s book here. Ask me questions, I’ll tell you no lies,” she let a sad smile slip out. “If you’re concerned about it, I'd recommend that you ask him instead of asking around him.”

He nodded in acknowledgement and went back to his magazine as Natalia put on a movie with a lot of cars and more cursing than was warranted. Clint could be heard every so often as his snoring tapered off into quiet snuffles. 

After the movie had been on half an hour and Bucky had flipped through the magazine twice, Clint rose to actually sit up. “The Fate of The Furious,” was his mumbled greeting. Bucky added the title to his list. It was quickly being recognized that whatever Clint deemed good enough to remember had to be worth at least one watch through.

“Hey Buckaroo,” Clint grinned down at him dopily. He could feel his cheeks heating into a strawberry blush. Steve had made fun of it for years because he didn’t have a handsome blush, instead his face got all blotchy and it trailed down his neck.

“Drugged to the gills there Clint,” Bucky asked instead of asking if he could be Clint’s buckaroo more often.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I'm hoping to update at least one more time before my classes start back up. After that everything will go back to being really sporadic. I hope that life is treating y'all well. And y'all know the rest of my spiel. Have a glorious day!


	12. Fever Brain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint's sick and Bucky is really trying to be helpful.

“Rude,” Clint mumbled before rolling down to the floor and propping himself against Bucky’s side. He seemed to have no self-preservation when it came to the metal arm or the fact that he seemed to enjoy cuddling against the Winter Soldier. Bucky just reached up and began mimicking Natalia’s earlier ministrations, but he was burning up. 

“You sick Hawkeye,” he asked moving his hand to feel his forehead better like Sarah Rogers had done to Steve for years. 

“Mmmph. Let an infection in. ‘M not a fan of hospitals,” he was talking into the arm now with half of his words being caught in the metal plates and not in actual sentences. Bucky had known he had run a mission earlier in the week but there hadn’t been any incident reports filed that would have concerned the team.

“It’s how he is,” Natalia supplied as she rose from her seat to wander to wherever she spent time when not being mysterious. 

“Come on Clint, up you get.” Bucky stood and attempted to get the blonde to follow with limited success. No success actually, given that Clint just flopped into Bucky’s vacant spot. “A floor isn’t good for napping.”

“Not the… mmph… not the worst place I’ve slept,” he was pushing himself to a sitting position. “Budapest wins that prize.” Bucky took his outstretched hand, hauling the taller man to his feet. A stumble and a hip-check into the marble countertop earned an overly scarred arm wrapping around the blond’s waist.

“Are you ever gonna tell me about Budapest?”

“Oh, you gotta ask Tasha not me,” a chuckle as they waited for the elevator. “I got one of the worst concussions of my life on the fubar mission. Can’t remember what happened after that all that well.”

Clint was in heaven. Bucky was so warm, like Steve in the fact that they both ran like a house on fire warm. His fever had spiked again and he was utterly freezing. To the point of chattering his teeth to see if it would make him feel better. He didn’t though, not wanting to worry the super-soldier. 

The elevator’s friendly ding brought his head to look up instead of staring at Bucky’s feet, he knew that the old myth was shit but there was always the possibility. Fever brain. Definitely, fever brain making him think that.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Look at that I'm not dead. Deaf but not dead. I got some upsetting real-life stuff that's affected my want to write. This is bad because my classes quite literally depend on my writing creatively, so this fic got shafted for a hot minute while I process. I'm back and hoping to work through this writer's block situation. I hope y'all enjoy it! As always I love to hear y'all's thoughts and opinions on everything.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi y'all! I have been reading the Aja Hawkeye comics a lot recently. And to be fair this ship has so much potential. I welcome all comments and constructional criticism. In fact I'm asking for it. This fic is coming as a "warmup" for my creative writing class. And I want to be able to improve on my writing so much.


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